[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 99

“…Alright, message delivered. Let’s schedule the press conference for thirty minutes from now.”

“Got it. I’ll prepare. …I’m always grateful for your help.”

Arisa, the manager, turned away with a tsundere huff.

I’d succeeded in wrapping up the Pater Faction mess, but with no clear plan to branch out, there was nothing to celebrate. My juniors were busy with their own tasks, so the one left to figure things out was, as always, me.

I planned to broadcast a temporary reel and hold a press conference after sunrise. The public needs to know our story.

Problems loomed like a mountain, and no matter how much I thought about it, I felt another issue I wasn’t aware of would explode. For now, I had to deal with what was in front of me… but how?

“So, what did you do with the Pater kids? My friends are saying you went crazy.”

“Guess why.”

“From a third-party perspective, it looks like a loyalist coup, doesn’t it?”

You nailed it.

Arisa had a knack for reading the room. Her manager position—practically a director’s role—wasn’t earned by luck.

I was lucky she stuck around. While Sayuri was out calming the Pater Faction’s sentiments, Arisa helped with administrative tasks and suggested the press conference. For someone like me, with zero social clout, she’s a lifesaver.

The biggest issue was convincing the administrators who were absent during the dawn chaos. I wasn’t sure they’d believe me.

“It’ll work out somehow. What’s there to worry about? I’m the Sanctus big shot, and Pater knows their place. If both factions at the Tea Party trust you, isn’t that half the battle won?”

“I basically forced Pater into submission. Plus, the Filius faction leader suspects me.”

“…Misuzu-chan? Why would she do that?”

Tell me about it. They say nothing’s impossible, but who’d have thought a student claiming to have experienced a past life—or whatever the kids call “regression” these days—would be strutting around the Tea Party hall?

Barely a few hours had passed, but the Filius faction’s mood was quiet. Their leader seemed content just watching me.

“Ask her yourself if you’re curious. Read a novel or two.”

“…?”

Arisa probably brushed it off as some nonsense. Sigh.

The broadcast I sent to the station was a short speech, a few minutes long. Naturally, Arisa helped a ton. She must’ve been uneasy leaving it all to me. I’ve been allergic to literature since childhood, so fair enough.

Still, I contributed a decent chunk! Neither Sayuri nor Arisa can claim full ownership of the speech.

“Let’s listen to some music while we prep. There’s a radio here, right?”

“Sure.”

—Click, click.

[“—A major address is scheduled shortly. Listeners, please stay tuned. Repeating—”]

Whoa.

“Uh… Manager? Did they move up the broadcast time?”

“Wait a sec… Oh, you’re right.”

“How does the comms room manager not know? Turn up the volume.”

Caught red-handed, Arisa scratched her head and twisted the radio knob.

—Krrrzzt—

***

6:15 A.M.

[“—If military action becomes necessary, it requires my approval.

As the proxy of Host Nagisa, the symbol of the academy’s continuity and unity, I cannot tolerate any actions that intend to disrupt the democratic processes enshrined in the constitutions of Trinity General School and Gehenna Academy through force…”]

…Hmm. How strange. Hearing Yamatsu’s voice on the radio?

The world doesn’t wait for the curious, and a journalist from Chronos News isn’t worth their salt if they don’t jump on a scoop like this. An editor’s job is to organize incoming articles, but Shiga Mitsuki is the best reporter around!

—Brrt, brrt—

“I’m busy right now. Who the hell calls on a personal number—”

“It’s me, Yamatsu-san. Don’t make me feel bad.”

“…Mitsuki-chan, huh? I don’t need to ask why you’re calling.”

Obviously, you’re the one who sent the broadcast. The Tea Party hall was buzzing all night, so I was staking out on a nearby rooftop—without the owner’s permission, of course. To think you didn’t tell me about a scoop this big!

“That’s cold, Yamatsu-san, real cold. Is this how you treat your exclusive Checkpoint reporter?”

“It wasn’t a Checkpoint matter; it was a Tea Party one. Plus, I didn’t see it coming.”

“I heard Pater tried to pull off a coup, so I’ll let that slide. But shouldn’t you have called me the moment it happened? Where else will you find a reporter who writes up your stuff so well?”

Hah, Yamatsu-san was speechless against my logical onslaught. The frustration of no contact for days is finally easing. You shouldn’t have ignored Chronos School’s editor-in-chief.

“I don’t care about that. The real question is what’s next. What’s the plan?”

“…A press conference. Thirty minutes from now. The location’s under embargo, so figure it out.”

Kukuku—that’s why I can’t help but like you. Politics and business shouldn’t mix, and journalists shouldn’t cozy up to their subjects, but we haven’t crossed any lines yet, right?

“By the way, Yamatsu-san, the address is 100% true, right? Don’t worry, I’m asking because I trust you.”

“It’s true. Pater purged students skeptical of war escalation and proposed a damn coalition to me. Did the address mention they tried to declare war on Gehenna?”

“No mention of war. Sounds like they were more radical than I thought.”

War with Gehenna, huh? The bad blood between the two academies is practically a centuries-old tradition, but it’s more personal grudges than societal will. You’d be hard-pressed to find students genuinely wishing for the other’s destruction.

As Chronos School’s Trinity correspondent… Pater’s actions are nothing short of insane.

“Then the article’s tone is set. What vibe do you want?”

“Vibe? Do what you want. You’re good at writing articles anyway.”

Oh, you’re giving me free rein?

“You said I could do what I want, right? Here’s the draft I’ve got in mind.”

“Go for it. You’re not planning anything weird…”

“‘This morning, our valiant soldiers rose up to overthrow the corrupt and incompetent Pater regime, paving the way for a stronger, more prosperous academy—’”

“$!#*&^%!!!”

Yamatsu-san scrambled to shut me down in a flustered tone. Hahaha! Nothing beats messing with her. It was off-the-cuff, but her usual antics make it so easy to come up with this stuff.

“Ugh… you said no weird stuff! Keep that up, Mitsuki-chan, and I’ll show up at your doorstep. I know your address.”

“Then I’ll just scream about freedom of expression from a jail cell, cosplaying as a democratic martyr.”

Do I look like an average person? I’ve eaten my share of humble pie, submitting reflection essays twice in this godforsaken academy. My scoops aren’t just luck!

The victor’s crown is mine. Yamatsu-san gave up trying to find a weak spot and dutifully shared the meeting spot.

In front of the Tea Party hall. Why bother with an embargo then?

“See you in thirty minutes. Haha, I’m grabbing the front seat.”

“Do whatever… Mitsuki-chan, you’re exhausting…”

But Yamatsu-san, it’s not my fault you’re worn out.

Whatever!

***

“Did you finish the calls?”

“All done.”

“Who was it that got you so worked up?”

“A wolf cub at the Tea Party hall.”

Senpai looked visibly troubled. Fighting in the Tea Party hall at dawn and dealing with me now must’ve taken a toll.

The Host’s Guard agreed to the mediation proposal. Instead of holding them fully accountable for the Pater Faction mess, the Guard Captain—Senpai—must actively cooperate with future cabinet duties.

The terms changed a lot during negotiations, but I was surprised Senpai took responsibility first. It’s not my place to judge, but despite their rough demeanor, they’ve got a strong sense of duty.

Per the agreement, the Host’s Guard must transfer all artillery and armored vehicles, including all calibers above 0.8 inches.

The Guard temporarily loses oversight authority outside their clubroom in the Tea Party hall.

The Border Checkpoint assumes these responsibilities, taking charge of maintaining security in the Tea Party hall.

“…This feels like you’re conceding a lot. Even lightly put, we helped a coup because we fell for Pater’s nonsense. Damn faction leader—I shouldn’t have trusted her.”

“I don’t want to talk about your responsibility. You did enough, and your judgment was quick.”

“If you’re right, that’d be great. Sigh… I’m off. Gotta tend to the wounded.”

As Senpai left the clubroom, they tapped my shoulder and said:

“Do well. I don’t fully know your intentions, but the public won’t see you kindly. Don’t trust Pater.”

“Pater?”

“She fooled me, didn’t she?”

I don’t think that’ll happen again. Whether they knew my thoughts or not, Senpai vanished quickly.

Thirty minutes later, I stood at the podium in front of the Tea Party hall.